


open doors

by newsiees



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 21:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsiees/pseuds/newsiees
Summary: Spot and Race disconnected because they wanted to connect. As Davey and Jack will tell them, all you have to do is anything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> response to the ask: "'why aren’t we making out?'sprace" on my tumblr, newsiees.

Racetrack Higgins slouched against the dorm door, neck arched to lean the side of his head against the painted wood. 

“Dave?” he mewled through the door, knocking again listlessly. 

“Yeah, Race, I’m coming,” Davey shouted hurriedly, making a whole lot of noise. 

Soon, the door was thrown open and Race found himself facing a heavily-breathing David Jacobs. He was genuinely smiling at Race, perfectly brushed teeth shining in Race’s face. Even that light hurt his head right now. 

“Hey, Race. What’s up?” 

“I need to talk to you.” He walked right through Davey’s spaghetti arm holding open the door, refusing to look at the sunshine in the window or on Davey’s face. 

“Hey, Race.” 

Race looked up to see Jack Kelly reposed on Davey’s desk chair, outstretched legs catching him as he spun the seat side to side. Race had thought he had recognized Davey’s sweatshirt.

“Oh, good, Jack. You’re here too.” Race could feel Jack roll his eyes in response, a gentle chuckle paired with a quick eyebrow raise acknowledging the obvious. 

“It’s pretty early, Race. Especially since I know you’re hungover from last night.” 

Race groaned at Jack’s mention of last night. Someone had thrown a banger and Race’s friend group had decided to abuse their alcohol supply. Well, Race had. He had needed to flood his brain with beer. 

“He was up, so I’m up,” Race mumbled, flopping unwisely on Davey’s bed. 

“Spot? You don’t have to get up just because Spot’s up, Race. You’re never going to sleep past six am for the rest of your life if you do that,” Jack joked.

Race just groaned louder, throwing his arms up and attempting to crush his head between his hands. 

“That’s the _point_. That’s why I’m _here_. I want to get up every morning at six am with him.” 

Jack and Davey exchanged amused glances before Davey walked towards Race, sitting next to his lamenting figure. He put his hand on Race’s shoulder and gave him a soft, almost motherly smile.  
“Why don’t you tell him this?”

“And ruin a lifelong friendship? No way. That’s why I came to you. So you could tell me exactly what to say so that I don’t almost tell him when I’m drunk like I keep doing.” 

His friends laughed but Race was not entertained. His clenched eyebrows shut them up pretty quickly. 

“Well, I’d say you should just tell him how you feel-” 

“Okay, Mom, I’ll definitely do that. Thank you,” Race sassed, sitting up much too quickly. He teetered for a second before standing surely and making his way to the door. 

“Really, thanks for trying. I just gotta...do it. You’re right,” he said, worn. He gave the pair a smile before shutting the door behind him. He sighed on the other side. He just had to do it. 

***

“Hey, Spot.” 

“Oh, hey, Davey. What’s up?” Spot said mindlessly, smiling without looking up from his newspaper as Davey sat next to him.

“Not much. Just breakfast.” Davey put down his yogurt and sat with a sigh.

“Mmm.” Spot wasn’t really paying attention.

“Sleep well after Saturday’s party?” Davey asked casually, adjusting his glasses as he relaxed into his yogurt. 

“Yup, you?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Good.”

Spot closed the newspaper and turned to Davey.

“Can I ask you something?” 

Davey stopped spooning yogurt and looked up at Spot. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Do you know what’s wrong with Race?”

“What? I-uh-no, I don’t,” Davey hoped his glasses hid the nervous shifting of his eyes as he forced them to stare back at his vanilla greek. 

“Oh, okay. He’s just been off so I was worried,” Spot admitted.

“You’re a good friend, Spot,” Davey said simply.

“Can I tell you something?” Spot blurted, folding his paper carefully.

“Of course.” 

“I think…” Spot took a deep breath, eyes closed and hands shaking. “I think I’m in love with him. Which is crazy. And I think he figured it out so now he’s acting funny. I asked him if he wanted to hang yesterday after he got back from your place, yeah? And he said no. No! And then he laid in bed instead.” 

Davey’s spoon froze in his mouth. What a world.

“That’s odd. He seemed like he was in the mood to hang out with you yesterday.” 

“He hates me now, that’s it.” Spot’s knuckles tightened and he looked ready to crumble the perfectly-folded newspaper in his hands.

“Um, no, I don’t think that’s it,” Davey stuttered, fervently wishing that Jack was there.

“It is. I have to back down forever.” 

“Spot.” 

“I’ll be okay, Dave, thanks,” Spot said shortly, making a move to get up.

Davey stood up quickly, dropping his spoon on the table and almost knocking his chair back.

“No, Spot. You’re his best friend, regardless of any other feelings. He deserves to know how his best friend feels about him,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Spot breathed, running his hands through his hair. “Okay, I’ll give it a try. So that Race will feel better.” 

“Awesome, Spot. See you later,” Davey smiled, giving his friend’s arm a friendly pat before letting him leave. 

***

“Jack, you’ll never believe this.” 

“Spot professed his undying love for Race?” Jack suggested casually, biting his pencil as he and his homework lounged on Davey’s bed. 

Davey’s chin hit the floor and he made a slightly-offended noise.

“How’d you know?” 

Jack shrugged, “The two have been in love for years. You’ve seen them watching a movie together. They always look like they’re about to kiss.” 

Davey hummed as he sat in his desk chair. 

“You’re right...what do we do?” 

“Easy,” Jack said, sitting  
up. “Invite them somewhere and then ditch them.” 

“Perfect.” 

***

“Davey and Jack should be here soon…” Race stammered nervously, refreshing his phone over and over to avoid looking up at Spot. 

Spot sighed as he leaned back on his arms in the pizza parlor’s booth. 

“Forget it. They’re screwing.” 

Race hesitated before laughing falsely. Spot gave him a raised eyebrow in response.

“Jesus, Race. What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing!” he shouted all too quickly. 

“Yeah, right. You hate me all of the sudden,” Spot confessed, contracting against the table over folded arms.

Race’s eyes widened and he shook his head, “No, _no_. I do _not_ hate you.” 

“Then chillax and talk to me. What’s wrong?” 

“I-uh,” Race searched for something to say, incredibly frustrated. “Fine, Spot. You win. Like you always do.” 

Spot scoffed, “C’mon, Race. Don’t be like that.” 

“Why, ‘cause it’s true? Because, no matter what, I can’t say no to you?” 

“Well, you better start learning how if we’re going to be friends,” Spot challenged, chuckling. 

“Yeah? Well, maybe I don’t want to be friends anymore.” 

Spot’s face discolored and his smirk went limp.

“What?” 

“Maybe...I don’t want to be your friend.” 

“You don’t?”

Race took a breath and scratched at the table cloth. 

“Yeah. Maybe...maybe I want to kiss you.” 

Spot balked, trying to catch air or something to say. 

“Forget it, Spot. I’ll just go-” Race stumbled, standing and beginning to pocket his keys.

Spot stood with him.

“Wait, Race, hold on.” 

Race cocked his head and lowered his eyebrows, heavily annoyed with himself.

“What, Spot?”

“Why aren’t we making out right now?” 

Race paused for the quickest of seconds before breathing out, “ _God_ , you’re hot,” and pulling Spot out the door. 

 

In a nearby booth, two terribly disguised college boys lowered their menus and high-fived.


End file.
